Acts Of Trust
by demondreaming
Summary: Even now, Lexa still trusted her. All Clarke wanted was to take that trust, break her of it. To make her hurt as she did. Love is weakness, Lexa had said so herself. Clarke would make her weak.


**Disclaimer: The 100 is not owned by me. Not in the slightest.**

Clarke stormed into the commander's tent, a maelstrom of emotion, held in check only by the sharp blades of Lexa's guards. The Grounder commander studied the blonde girl; the thunder growling on her brow, the lightning forking her flashing eyes, and raised a hand. The guards shifted warily, before lowering their weapons and obediently exiting, scowls written on their rough faces. Lexa saw a storm in Clarke, yet the quiver in her lips spoke of rain, soft and pattering. There was gentleness in her still, that even her anger and pain couldn't overwhelm. She was no true storm, only a threat of one. The commander moved closer to the roiling girl, steps smooth and cautious.

"Clarke, I-" Her words were cut off by a stinging slap, cheek blooming red already. Her hand caught Clarke's wrist instinctively on the next one, jaw tingling painfully from the last. Clarke fought her grip for a moment before wrenching herself free, stumbling back a step.

"No. You don't get to talk." Clarke spat. Tears shone in the blonde's sky-hued eyes, yet she kept them in check, the rumbling thunder of her brow furrowing down. To remind herself she was a storm, not a shower. She'd come to- to do what, exactly? To kill? To hurt? To scare?

Lexa stood silently as Clarke swept away the dark clouds from herself, struggling to find what lay underneath, whether crackling fire and howling salt wind or a soft, bitter mist of rain. As she delved deeper into herself, clouds melting away from her desperate grasping, a heavy, bitter taste grew on her tongue. There was nothing in her, there never had been. Even Lexa knew that, from the moment Clarke had strode in, dismissing her guards without concern. Even now, the brunette still trusted her.

Trust. The thought was a lightning flash in her, white hot and searing, and before she fully understood what she was doing, Clarke was scrabbling at a wrist cuff. The blade was thin and sharp, about the length of her thumb but a hair of the thickness. It looked crude and wicked pressed to Lexa's throat, skin dimpling where the tip pressed. Clarke had expected a flinch, a gasp,_something _from the brunette. All she got was a cool gaze, the same proud, fearless look Lexa always met her with. A look that measured and weighed, and found her wanting.

A blossom of blood welled under the blade, tracing a scarlet line down Lexa's pale throat. Clarke noticed the shake in her hand, and hated herself for it. Her clouds had parted and all she'd found was trust. Trust and Lexa's clear, guiltless eyes.

It was then her storm broke, tears hot on her cheek. Lexa's lips parted slightly, a flicker in those bright eyes, but Clarke silenced it with the blade, another bright ribbon streaming forth. "Why did you do it?" The blonde's voice was shredded, emotions ground and pulped until she could spoon them into soft words. "Why?"

Lexa shifted on her feet, blade nicking a little deeper as she swallowed. She met Clarke's quavering gaze. "You know why. Asking again doesn't change it."

"But why did you do it to_me_?"The words came out bloody and raw, clawed from the bottom of Clarke's chest. For all that she'd stared before, Lexa lowered her eyes now.

"It wasn't to you, Clarke." She wet her lips. When she met the blonde's gaze again, it was almost hesitant. Yet still she didn't move away, thin rivulets of blood shining wet on her neck as she shifted. "It was in spite of you." As subtle as light moving across shadow, her eyes changed. Gone was the pride, the cold detachment, the measuring assessments. All that was left was the trust that made Clarke's hand tremble. Trust and something else. Something Clarke had felt every time one of her people had begged her with pleading eyes, frantically asked her where their loved ones were. Something Clarke had grown accustomed to the taste of, spooned down almost eagerly. Guilt. "I had to do-"

"No." Clarke's voice was a growl. "You didn't have to do anything. We had a plan. We- I- I trusted you, I thought-" Clarke fought to unscramble her thoughts, to pluck out her most painful parts and present them to Lexa, to show the damage that had been done. "Why didn't you trust me?" Instead of presenting her wounds like bitter trophies, she was holding them out to be kissed better. Like all Lexa had done was pick someone else over her at a stupid dance or something. And yet she had picked someone else. Her people.

"I did trust you Clarke. I_do_trust you." The blade drew back an inch, the blonde frowning uneasily as Lexa followed it, until it bit her skin again. "It wasn't about you." The brunette's hand covered Clarke's, holding the knife steady. "But it should've been. For that I'm sorry." Lexa's grip tightened on Clarke's, drawing the blade closer until it shivered against her throat, blood stuttering from a half dozen shallow pricks. "_Jus drein jus daun. _If it's blood you want from me Clarke, then you may have it."

Clarke wrenched her hand free from Lexa's, knife clattering to the floor, blade a slippery crimson. "That's not what I want." It wasn't blood that had been taken from her. It had been her trust.

She watched the stained weapon rock back and forth on the ground, shivering to a stop finally. "It's not blood I want." Clarke raked her eyes over the proud warrior. It wasn't her heart's blood Clarke thirsted for, that Lexa gave to any who could take it. No, blood wasn't enough. She wanted Lexa's very heart. Love is weakness. Lexa had told her that long ago, and for the brunette, it was true. For someone who ruled with iron, she couldn't afford to bend, lest she snap entirely. But Clarke had felt the Grounder melt against her once before, heard the squeal of twisted metal in their kiss.

Clarke wanted her red hot again, molten and running. She wanted Lexa's heart swollen to bursting in her chest, and then she wanted to twist it out. To make that trust hurt, the same way it had hurt her. She wanted what Lexa had broken in her. She wanted Lexa human and weak. Every little act of trust, every thoughtless surrender; she wanted it all to hurt.

Lexa wiped at her throat with a rag pulled from a pocket, dabbing where beads of red still welled. She tossed the rag aside when satisfied, straightening. "If not blood, what do you hunger for, Clarke?"

"You."

Before Clarke could think, her palm was already cradling Lexa's cheek, her lips finding the brunette's a moment later. Like a scream, her anger built inside of her, bubbling and hot, demanding to be released. She poured everything out of her, in hot kisses and rough touches, backing the taller girl up until she thudded against a table, breath forced from her.

When Clarke pulled back, Lexa's eyes were wide, lips parted and flushed. Confusion wrinkled her brow. "Clarke-"

The blonde's voice was low and even, cutting Lexa off. "Do you want this?"

Lexa's tongue wet her lips, gaze torn between Clarke's smoldering stare and waiting mouth. "Yes, but-"

Clarke's fingers fumbled at the clasps of Lexa's clothes. "Do you trust me?"

The brunette's garment crumpled to the floor heavily as she nodded, looking almost fragile in only her underthings.

When Clarke kissed her again, she swayed forward, fingertips soft on the small of the blonde's back. Her lips were just as gentle, giving where Clarke pushed. She was all surrender. All trust. It was infuriating.

"Why?" Clarke pressed, tearing her lips from the taller girl again. "Why trust me?"

Lexa took a moment to study the smaller girl, appraising. "Because I know you, Clarke." A slight smile curved her lips.

The sound of skin on skin split the room like a thunderclap, Clarke's hand aching from the force of the slap. "You don't know me, Lexa. Not now."

The smile was gone from the commander's face, cheek a florid scarlet, hot against Clarke's palm as she cradled it more gently. When her lips touched Lexa's, soft, soothing, the brunette's tongue brought the taste of blood with it, thin and metallic.

Whatever the Grounder might've wished to say was muffled by Clarke's lips, silenced with soft kisses and light touches. Clarke lost herself in it for a moment, let herself feel the insistent pull between her legs, felt it mingle with the pain and anger crawling in her belly. She wanted nothing more than to dip into that maelstrom, to wet her hands to the wrist and paint Lexa's skin with her sickening desire, her glorious suffering. She wanted every pang of pleasure to bring an answering echo of pain.

Blood for blood. Pain for pain. Trust for trust.

She brushed Lexa's hands from her, when they sought to pluck at her coat. She offered no more explanation than a slight shake of her head, the brunette withdrawing her hands to rest on the blonde's hips, accepting.

She devoured Lexa hungrily, careless of where her teeth nipped and nails clawed. She found herself tightening, wanting a reaction, needing that painful surrender. All the better if blood was drawn, sticky on her skin. She wanted Lexa flinching from her touch, pulling back only to twitch forward irresistibly. Her lips tore at the commander's injured throat, stinging the ripped skin until the brunette pulled back, breath tangled in her mouth.

Her hands sought to bare the taller girl next, heedless of tearing until Lexa's fingers covered her own and softened them, undergarments slipping free to pool at her feet. Her fingers entwining with Clarke's, she brought the smaller girl's hands to her bared breast, and for a second, Clarke forgot that trust should hurt. That this little act of trust and vulnerability should have angered her, twisted like a knife at the thoughtless ease of it. Instead of that crawling rage, excitement hummed through her veins, stretched them to bursting until she wasn't sure which had hurt more.

Her thumbs flicked over the stiffening flesh of Lexa's nipples, a soft gasp escaping the Grounder. The sound was kindling to Clarke's fire, and she sought to build it higher, lips closing over a firm pink nub. Lexa's fingers coiled themselves in her hair, voice bleeding into her breath, soft, soft, as Clarke lapped at the sensitive flesh. As she released the teased nub, switching to its opposite, she let a hand steal to the brunette's belly, to where the skin softened and trembled under her fingertips. Her teeth nipped at Lexa's breast, her hips jumping forward to clash against Clarke, the brunette's breath shortened by the action. Shorter yet again when repeated.

Clarke soothed her last nip with her tongue, placing a soft kiss on Lexa's collarbone before pulling back. Her fingertips tickled Lexa's inner thigh, pressure light but insistent. "Do you trust me?"

Lexa's pupils were dilated, huge and dark in the dim light, lips shining wet. When she spoke, her voice was low but steady. "Yes."

Clarke raised a hand sharply, a hot satisfaction filling her as the brunette's body tightened almost imperceptibly, eyes flickering shut. Instead of another ringing slap she moved her other hand, delving between Lexa's taut thighs, in a slow, deliberate stroke. The taller girl shuddered against her, teeth sunk into her bottom lip to catch the moan forced from her. Clarke replaced those teeth with her own, biting deep as her fingers explored Lexa's wetness.

When she slipped a finger inside the brunette, quickly followed by another, it was as hot and wet as heart's blood to her. Another act of trust, as Lexa parted her legs further, only drawing the blonde closer, body hard and lips gentle. Yet even as she spurred her strokes to be harder, rougher, her lips traced soft kisses on Lexa's throat. Even as the brunette's hips jumped forward, voice growing more urgent, Clarke's exhales grew softer, closer to sobs than harsh grunts. Blood must have blood.

But this was not blood.

As Lexa shuddered, body tightening, breath bled over her lips and fingers tangled in Clarke's hair, the blonde shut her eyes, face buried near Lexa's throat. Clarke could feel the thrumming of the Grounder's heart, could smell the clean scent of Lexa's skin underneath the lingering odors of leather and oil. She let it fill her, until she swam in the soft heat of the Grounder, her fingers slowing with Lexa's hips until both were still. Clarke let herself feel everything, let it wash over her like saltwater rushing over an open wound. Even as it cleansed it stung, and she used the feeling, the bracing pain, pushing herself off the sweat-dampened girl. She ran her eyes over the exposed brunette, skin littered with raised scratches and welts, eyes soft and wanting. All the acts of trust Clarke had tried her best to break.

"_Hodnes laik kwelnes. _" She'd meant to say it with venom, but it was a slow poison for them both.

As she turned to leave the tent, jaw set, Lexa's breath still slowing and skin still cooling behind her, she couldn't help but think it was the most trustworthy thing Lexa had ever said to her.

Love is weakness.

And Clarke felt weak.

**A/N: Reviews are appreciated. Help my heart wobble in that nice way.**


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